Understanding
by Liselle129
Summary: This is something I've been working on for a while. An extension to Peeta and Katniss's conversation near the end of the book.


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. This is for entertainment purposes only, and no money is being made.

Author's Note: This is an extension of the conversation Katniss and Peeta have near the end of The Hunger Games. I would have liked to see a little more development there. Having now read the entire trilogy, I think only a couple of scenes in Catching Fire might have to be altered slightly to make this work. The beginning part in italics is a direct quotation from the book.

**Understanding**

"_Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable._

"Peeta, wait," I say when he turns away. Somehow, I can't let him go. Not like this. He stops but does not turn back toward me, and I know I'm going to have to talk fast to keep him here a little longer. "Please, try to look at this from my point of view. You've had 11 years to get used to the idea of loving me. I've only had a few weeks to even think about it, and for at least half that time, I thought only one of us could leave that arena alive. I mean, what was the point of getting attached to you if…"

I let the sentence trail off. We both know how it ends, anyway. I'm watching Peeta's back intently, and his shoulders relax a bit.

"That's true," he concedes. "And you probably thought I was trying to figure out how to kill you. Not very romantic."

"Well, yes," I admit, and he finally turns around. In a small voice, I add, "You weren't, were you?" It isn't really a question, and I don't know why I'm even asking. It just makes everything harder on both of us. Still, he answers, looking straight into my eyes.

"Of course not," he says harshly. "Were you? Trying to kill me?"

"Not really," I hedge. Granted, I didn't really care if he died the day I dropped the tracker jacker nest, but that was when I'd thought he was working with the Careers. "I was mostly trying _not_ to think about what I would do if…if it came down to that." I look down, and I hear him sigh.

"Well, that's something, I guess."

The revelation hits me so suddenly, it's almost like a physical blow. At the same time, it's so blindingly obvious that I wonder why I didn't realize it before. I guess the concept of someone sacrificing himself for me was just too alien. I've spent too much of my life struggling for survival.

"You never planned to win, did you?" I say almost accusingly. It's all coming together in my mind now: his refusal to tell the Careers what I was capable of, his insistence that I not risk myself for his sake, his willingness to bleed to death on that final day so that I could live. I look up, and now it's Peeta who can't meet my gaze.

"I could never hurt you, Katniss," he replies softly. "My whole strategy since this thing began was to stay alive long enough to protect you as much as I could, then step out of the way. I told you the truth in the arena. I don't want to live without you." From the way he says this, I know he was ready even to let me kill him, if he had to. It's too much. Suddenly, I can't seem to get a full breath, and gray spots are closing in on my vision. I know I'm going to pass out if I don't do something right now. I drop to the ground and put my head between my knees, trying to take short breaths to prevent hyperventilation.

"Katniss? Are you okay?" The artificial leg makes it difficult for Peeta to move quickly, but he comes over and awkwardly gets down beside me. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. I just… " I try to gasp something out, but the truth is, I have no words. I don't think anyone's ever loved me that much. Maybe my father, but this kind of thing never came up while he was alive. I can't help wondering if Gale would be willing to die for me. Though the thought makes me feel disloyal, I kind of doubt it. He's a survivor, like me. That's not a bad thing, obviously; just different. I'm sure that Gale would have approached this thing the same way I did – wondering what my angle was, hoping he wouldn't have to kill me in the end. Would he have? Would I? These are questions I'm not ready to face.

Finally, my breathing returns to normal, and the numbness in my extremities recedes. I still can't look at Peeta.

"I did what I had to so that we could survive. Both of us," I say, hoping it will be enough but fearing that it won't be. "I didn't know…I didn't believe…" Again, I trail off.

"…that I really loved you?" he finishes for me. His voice is quiet and gentle. Soothing. I really don't want to alienate him so much that I never hear him speak that way again. At the same time, I have to be honest. I owe him that much and more. I nod, hoping he can see my head move. Apparently, he does.

"I guess I can't blame you," he says. "Maybe I let you believe it was an act for too long. It was easier."

I swallow hard, and we sit in silence for a little while. I know we need to get back to the train before it takes off, but there is one more thing I have to tell him.

"The thing is, Peeta," I begin haltingly, "even if I figure out that I love you, I don't think I can be everything you want me to be."

"What do you mean?" he responds, and I can hear the confusion in his tone. "You're already everything I want." I close my eyes. He has a habit of saying these things. I know he's sincere, but they just make things more difficult.

"I decided a long time ago that I'm never getting married," I answer bluntly. "I can't bring children into the world only to see them go through the Reaping, maybe even watch them kill or be killed. Do you understand? I can't give the Capitol more victims!" Now I turn to look him full in the face. "I mean, can you?"

Peeta's mouth works like a fish's, and I can see that he's never thought that far ahead. His expression and posture slump in defeat.

"I guess not," he gives in. Then, his eyebrows draw together like he's thinking deeply. "So, if there were no Hunger Games, you'd consider it? Getting married, having kids, all of it?"

"What are you saying?" I ask, starting to panic. This is exactly the kind of rebellious talk I'm trying to avoid, and here he is, bringing it up.

"Nothing. Just thinking aloud." He tries to play it off like it's no big deal, but it is a big deal, and we both know it. We're being called back to the train now, and there's no time for more conversation. I just have to hope that he knows when and where he can safely say these things. I may not know where he and I stand, but I definitely don't want to cause him any more trouble. I've already cost him a leg. The last thing he needs is to lose his heart as well. The trouble is, I don't know how to prevent it.

* * *

Author's Note: I decided not to re-write the entire ending of the book, so I leave it to your imagination to decide if and how this addition might have influenced that.


End file.
